


25 Days of Tuckington

by onceuponachildhood



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Christmas, Fluff, M/M, Multi, Winter, holiday themed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-01
Updated: 2014-12-14
Packaged: 2018-02-27 00:22:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 5,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2671931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onceuponachildhood/pseuds/onceuponachildhood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A ficlet a day to celebrate the season, featuring Mr. Quick-Witted and his stoic cat-obsessed paramour. {Tuckington; Winter-themed fics of various length; unconnected unless otherwise stated}</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Deck the Halls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: our landlord went all-out with the mistletoe   
> additional: don’t read and walk. unless you live near really hot people.

Tucker hit the ground with a hard enough thud that he figured he’d learned his lesson about texting and walking. On the floor next to him, one of the other tenants grabbed his book just before he lost his page. “Nice catch,” Tucker said. Or maybe moaned. He wasn’t sure. His ass felt like he’d shattered his tailbone.

“I am so sorry,” the guy said. Tucker recognized him as the cute Korean guy from down the hall. He was on his feet faster than Tucker could even think about moving. Ex-military or something, if Tucker had heard the building’s biggest gossip correctly. Donut was almost never wrong with whatever he heard, too. The cute guy tucked his book into his bag and held out a hand for Tucker. Tucker gladly took it. Maybe letting the guy handle most of the work would make his ass hurt less. About halfway on his feet he glanced up and chuckled. The guy pulled him the rest of the way up and frowned. “What?”

Tucker pointed up at the mistletoe hanging above their heads. “Looks like we’ve been caught,” he teased. The guy went pale so quick Tucker thought he might be sick. Wow. Tucker’d just thought maybe it was a good opportunity to nab a quick peck from a total babe, but apparently that wasn’t going to work here. “We, uh, don’t have to,” he said gently. “I mean, it’s just a silly superstition thing.” He took a half a step back.

The cute Korean guy reached out and grabbed his wrist, tugged him slowly forward. Now he was blushing, so red that Tucker almost couldn’t see his freckles anymore. He reached his other hand up to Tucker’s cheek, cupped palm against Tucker’s face, and then he was kissing Tucker.

_Wow_. Okay. This was definitely better than wherever Tucker had expected this to go. The guy let go of him and stepped away almost as quickly as he’d started the kiss, and the he walked passed Tucker and was back on his path - down the stairs and out of the building.

Tucker blinked. Shook his head. He slipped his phone into his pocket and stormed over to the nearest apartment. Donut’s apartment.

“Donut,” he yelled, banging on the door. “Donut! Answer this fucking door or I swear to god I’m gonna throw a red sock into your whites-”

The door swung open and Donut scowled. “Wow, rude much?” But he opened the door wider in silent invitation and Tucker gratefully came in.

“So tell me about the new guy.”

“The… new guy?”

“The new tenant,” Tucker said. “The one you were telling me about last week. Ex-military? Korean? Has fucking freckles for days?”

“Ohhhhh!” Donut dropped into the nearest chair and grinned at Tucker. “You mean Wash! What happened? Your clothes are all dirty. Oh, wow, did you try hitting on him and he totally dumped your desperate ass on the floor?”

“No!” Donut raised a single eyebrow. It made him look like the smuggest motherfucker on the planet.  “… okay, yeah, I did hit the floor, but it’s just because we bumped into each other. Uh, literally.” Tucker paused. “Also, desperate? Please.”

Donut smirked. “You haven’t gotten laid in a year and a half and Wash is totally your type. But you’re definitely not his type.” Well, fuck. Fucking smug-ass Donut and his knowing way too much about everybody else’s business.

Wait. Tucker crossed his arms. “Shows how much you know, because your asshole husband put mistletoe up all over the damn place and Wash just kissed me under some of it.”

“Really!?” Donut achieved a whole new octave. “OH my gosh that is absolutely precious! I can’t believe he really kissed you under the mistletoe.” Donut sighed. “That’s so romantic.”


	2. Epitaph

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: you keep coming to this store I work at to buy wreaths. what are you doing with all these wreaths?  
> additional: civilian life is hard. wash adjusts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for vague mentions of ptsd

Tucker drummed his fingers on the belt and waited for the guy to walk up. _The_ guy. The dude who came in every fucking Wednesday night, buying groceries or paper plates or cat food or whatever normal thing. The dude who also always bought a wreath. Every Wednesday for the past month. It was driving Tucker up the wall. What the hell did this guy need all these wreaths for?

He walked up and placed his stuff on the conveyor belt in front of Tucker. “What the hell do you need all these wreaths for?” The guy looked up at Tucker, eyes wide. He was kinda cute, Tucker noticed. Not like, jaw-dropping gorgeous or anything, but he had brown eyes and an intense smattering of freckles and his biceps were still clearly visible under the fluffy cat sweater he was wearing. And he was _tall_. At least 6’4”, if Tucker had to guess. Not that Tucker had a type or anything. But, hey, tall cute guy. Who had weird shopping habits. “Dude, you come in every Wednesday. You have to have like sixty wreaths by now.”

“This is the fifth,” he replied, like the number was the point.

Tucker turned on the belt and started ringing his stuff. Cat food and a wreath. Of course. The guy was like scheduled or something. “So what’s the deal? Do you have a lot of doors or something? There’s gotta be an easier way to get into the Christmas spirit.”

The guy fidgeted with a stray thread on his sleeve. He wasn’t much for eye contact. Tucker had noticed that, too. “I… uh…”

“Tell you what,” Tucker said, because the guy looked so fucking pitiful and there was definitely an angry-looking mom pushing her cart toward his lane. “You can tell me over coffee. I get off in like fifteen minutes. Meet me at the Blood Gulch Cafe. It’s like right up the road.”

“I know where it’s at.” He sounded relieved. Good. Tucker maybe almost felt guilty for putting him on the spot, but hey. Better now.

Tucker grinned, even though the guy was looking down at the belt. “Awesome. See ya.”

“See ya.” The guy scooped up his bags and bolted.

* * *

 

Tucker half-expected to arrive at the cafe and have a coffee by himself, but wreath guy was sitting in a corner with a steaming mug. Tucker got his own beverage of choice - the cafe’s signature winter drink, which tasted like a cherry cordial and basically was the only way Tucker stayed on his feet until he could get home and crash.

The guy looked up when he walked over, and even offered a little smile when Tucker sat down. “Okay, so what’s with the wreaths?”

The guy sighed, cupping his drink. “Do you know the guy who owns this place?”

“Unfortunately.”

“So you know his sister served in the military.”

“Carolina, right?” The guy nodded. “Oh yeah. She is one scary woman.”

The guy nodded again. Nobody could argue that Carolina wasn't scary. If they tried, Tucker would probably just laugh and ask if they’d even met her. “She might have mentioned my name in passing. I’m, uh, I’m Wash. We served in the same unit during our deployment.”

 _Oh._ “Oh.” Carolina was mostly scary because of just how hardcore she’d been in the military. Even now, most of her missions had been so classified that she couldn’t even say who’d been on them with her. Tucker eyed Wash’s biceps again, wondering just where cute ended and stone-cold deadly motherfucker started.

Wash noticed his look. He smiled again, but it was definitely sad. Goddamit, Tucker, stop being an asshole. The dude can’t even look you in the eye and he buys cat food by the armful. _Chill._ “Those of us from the unit who, ah, made it home… well, let’s just say it’s hard to get back to normal life.”

“Makes sense,” Tucker said. And it did. Church was unfortunately one of his closest friends, and a side effect of that was seeing Carolina fairly often. She was pretty jumpy, too. Tucker had just thought it was a Carolina thing. Apparently not.

“I’ve been. Um.” Wash took a sip of his drink, stared at the cup like it might speak to Tucker for him and save him the embarrassment. “I’ve been getting the wreaths for the squad.” Oh. “I started with everyone that made it. They needed the cheer more, you know?” Tucker nodded. “I just gave Carolina hers yesterday. This week’s is going over to St. Paul’s.”

St. Paul’s…? Everything snapped together for Tucker. St. Paul’s, the city’s oldest church. St. Paul’s, with the memorial for fallen soldiers. When Tucker spoke, he did so more delicately than he was accustomed. “If I’m overstepping at all here, let me know. But, uh, it’s already dark, and it can get pretty lonely making trips over there. Would you, you know, want someone to tag along?”

Wash looked up and met Tucker’s gaze and _holy shit he was blushing_. Abort mission. Mayday mayday. He was definitely, totally, 100% Tucker's type. “Please.”


	3. Prescribed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: I get that your kid loves loud holiday music but why are you letting them stay up past midnight listening to it  
> additional: sometimes the only medicine for a wounded heart is the care of one that’s not

Wash rolled over to look at his alarm clock. “Two am,” he said. Through the thin apartment walls, he could hear aggressively loud Christmas music and the soft thuds of a kid stomping around. “Two am,” he repeated. Unreal.

He rolled out of bed and pulled a sweatshirt over his head. He felt tired and dizzy after pulling a double shift and all he wanted to do was sleep. He didn’t even bother pulling on socks or shoes, just stepped out into the frosty night air and walked to his neighbor’s door. He - well, knocked is a generous word to use here. He pounded on the door. He was tired. And the music was loud. Did he mention the tired thing? So maybe his manners suffered a little.

The door swung open. His attractive but insufferably immature neighbor, Tucker, greeted him with a smile and a breathless “Hey, what’s- oh. It’s you.”

“Yeah, it’s me.” Wash hoped his tone was as dry and painful as his eyes felt. “It’s two am. Why the hell are you and your kid being so loud?” He yawns. “Also, can you not? Some of us are trying to get some sleep.”

Tucker glanced back at Junior, who Wash had to admit looked pretty adorable dancing around the living room in festive pajamas. His eyes were closed and he was belting the music, feet slamming into the floor. Wash thought they were lucky to live on the first floor. Tucker suddenly stepped out of the doorway, closing the door behind with a little snap. Wash moved back to avoid having a face full of Tucker. Even so, Tucker was much closer to Wash than his dignity would like. The parts of his brain that also put “attractive” before “immature” were pleased as hell, though.

Tucker sighed. “Okay, look. This is my week with Junior, right? He’s here, he celebrates Christmas with me, and then he’s back with his mom until the weekend. Except she doesn’t want him back anymore. Ever.” Damn. Wash looked at Tucker, really looked at him - new creases in his forehead, worry lines, and eyes that made him look a little lost. “I’m not gonna hide it from him, even though I absolutely want to, because he deserves the truth. I just want him to be as happy as he can be now, because he’s gonna hurt later.”

Wash didn’t know what to say. What could he say to that? He didn’t even know how it made him feel. Other than a slight newfound respect for his neighbor, of course. And sad for Junior, who was sweet and polite and smiling where his dad was snarky and sarcastic and inappropriate. As if on cue, the door swung open and Junior peered out at them. “‘lo, Mr. Washington.” He bounced in place. “Dad, why’re you standing out here in the cold? I thought you liked Mr. Washington. You said he was nice and funny and has great legs-”

“Oh wow look at the time!” Tucker spun Junior around and nudged him back inside. “Looks like it’s time for bed, kiddo.”

Junior turned off the music and vanished into the back of the apartment. Wash raised an eyebrow. Tucker faced Wash and rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s probably a little too optimistic to think that you didn’t hear that, right?”

“Oh, I heard him alright.” Tucker groaned. Wash crossed his fingers behind his back and said “So I guess that means you’re not going to freak out if I ask you out for coffee.”

“I promise it’s- wait, what?” He couldn’t see Tucker’s expression clearly in the faint moonlight. Then again, Tucker probably couldn’t see Wash's flushed cheeks. “Why…?”

Wash didn’t know how to answer that question. It was two am and he was standing outside barefoot in the middle of December, asking his young, gorgeous, worried neighbor on a date. Maybe he wanted to take a chance. Maybe he just felt bad for Tucker. Maybe he realized why he got butterflies every time he went to the mailroom and he wasn’t alone. But he said “You can be happy after you hurt, too.” And he meant it.


	4. Eggnog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: Wash buying eggnog for Junior to try because Tucker has never liked it  
> additional: Junior is the champ at puppy-dog eyes, and they know it. Wash is such a sucker.

“I can’t believe you are so serious about this,” Tucker said to his boyfriend.

Said boyfriend, one David Washington (just Wash to his friends), sighed. “I’ve told you a thousand times. It’s like a holiday tradition. It’s important.”

“It’s eggnog! Which, by the way, tastes pretty fucking gross and feels about ten times worse.” Wash raised an eyebrow but still headed for the dairy section of the supermarket. “You’re literally buying this drink that tastes like.. like… well, it tastes really fucking bad. And you want my poor sweet innocent kid to drink it.”

Wash laughed. “And you call me melodramatic. Junior heard about it at school. You can’t blame them for wanting to try it. I’m just, you know, facilitating.” Now it was Tucker’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “Okay, maybe I’m encouraging it a little. But that’s not the point.”

Tucker continued to sigh and pout as Wash picked out the eggnog and paid for it, but he didn’t argue.

* * *

 

Junior bounced down the bus stairs and right into Tucker’s arms. “Daddy daddy I had the coolest last day we had a party and there was cake and ice cream and so much candy and I-”

“Slow down there, tiger. I don’t think your dad is keeping up.”

“Papa Wash!” Junior wiggled away from Tucker to give Wash a hug. “Did you get the eggnog? You promised you’d get it!”

“I got it, squirt.”

“Awesome!” Junior pulled away from Wash to run up the sidewalk to the porch. “This is gonna be the coolest Christmas ever!”

 


	5. it's not the north but at least there's some kind of pole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: you got your tree stuck in the stairwell and now none of us can get into our apartments au  
> additional: santa strippers

“How does this happen?”

Wash looked from Tucker to the ridiculously large tree laying in the stairwell. Well, laying wasn’t quite right. No, it was wedged. Branches even poked through the railing and hung over so that they had tickled Wash’s head as he’d walked up.

Tucker shifted from one foot to another. “Okay, look, in my defense I didn’t realize that carrying it by myself was going to be so difficult.”

“You didn’t realize-” Wash’s voice shot up. “I don’t even think Maine could move this fucking tree by himself!”

“I got it from the car to here, _asshole_!”

“And then you got it stuck in the stairwell, _Lavernius_.” Wash pinched the bridge of his nose. “Where did you even find a tree this size?”

There was a pause. Tucker wouldn’t quite meet his eyes. “Dude, I don’t think you’d believe me even if I told you.”

“Is this like your bachelorette party story? Because if it is then of course I won’t believe a word of it.”

“No, it’s not!” Tucker paused again. “... even though there might be a bachelorette party involved.”

Wash crossed his arms. “Really?”

“Okay, look.” Tucker crossed his arms too, leaned against the wall next to the stairs. His arm rubbed against the bottom branches. “There was this bachelorette party, see? And like, the bride is super obsessed with Christmas, so she wanted a Christmas-themed party. With, uh, decorations. Big ones. And Santa strippers.”

“Santa strippers.”

“Yeah.”

“And you _really_ expect me to believe this?”

“Hey, shut up, story’s not over. So they went to this place and had their party and it was actually pretty wild. Wild enough that the strip club just wanted all the shit gone and they agreed to never do holiday-themed parties again. I might’ve helped.” Wash sighed. Tucker ignored him. “Anyway, to make a long story short Kai called me up because her boss didn’t just wanna throw the tree out and so I came and got it and here we are.”

“... how much of that story is really true?” Tucker opened his mouth. “And before you say all of it, do you really expect me to believe that this tree fit in your car?”

Tucker grinned. Actually grinned, like a cat in the cream. “Oh, it didn’t.”

“Borrowed my truck.” Wash whipped around. Maine stood on the steps below them, keys jingling in hand.

Tucker practically bounced off the wall to throw an arm around Wash’s shoulders. “Wash, buddy, you have the coolest roommate ever.”

Maine chuckled. “Of all time.”

“I hate you both.”

 

 


	6. It's The Thought That Counts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: person A lying under the Christmas tree, wrapped up in fancy decoration and bows on Christmas morning, only to greet a surprised (and still sleepy) person B with a weak pick-up line: Merry Christmas baby, now, will you open your present?  
> additional: that's fucking weak, dude.

Tucker thought it was weird waking up to a cold and empty bed on Christmas morning. Doubly weird considering he lived with his boyfriend. Triply weird considering that his boyfriend Wash was the absolute opposite of a morning person on saturdays. Tucker climbed out of bed and stumbled downstairs, rubbing sleep from his eyes as he went. When he got to the living room, he had to stop and rub them again to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating.

  
Wash was under the tree, wearing something - Tucker took a closer look - _lacy_ , with ribbons and bows dotted everywhere else. Wash smiled up at him, and the lights on the tree reflected in his eyes. “Merry Christmas, baby. Now, wanna open your present?”


	7. Flour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: Wash coming home from work to find his kitchen trashed from Tucker and Junior trying to surprise him with winter cookies  
> additional: wow what a mess

In truth, it’s not a total disaster area. Wash takes in the damage from the doorway, looking in at a sheepish Tucker and a delighted Junior. They’re standing in the middle of the room, covered in flour. To be fair, the floor isn’t much less covered. Junior runs over and wraps their arms around Wash’s legs. “You’re home! You’re home!”

“I’m home,” Wash agrees. Tucker winces at his tone, but Junior doesn’t seem to notice anything wrong. “What’s, uh, what’s going on?”

Junior pulls away. “I wanted to make you something for Christmas, so daddy asked your mommy for her cookie recipe and we made your favorite cookies.”

“Oh.” Tucker won’t meet his eyes. No wonder. Wash’s mother hates nobody more than Wash’s young, black, male partner. Wash feels a headache coming on. “Hey, Junior, why don’t you go clean up in the bathroom and change into your pajamas? We’ll watch Ninja Turtles before bed.”

“Awesome!” They run past Wash and into the bathroom, leaving a trail of floured footprints in the hallway.

Tucker clears his throat. “Uh, maybe I should go clean up too-”

“No.” Wash says it quickly, too quickly, and Tucker winces again. “You called my _mother_?”

“... yeah.”

Wash is moving before Tucker has time to react. He steps forward and wraps his arms around Tucker, pressing his face into Tucker’s neck. Tucker tenses and then relaxes, reaching up to hug Wash back. “You didn’t have to,” Wash mumbles.

“I wanted to.” Wash kisses his neck, then starts laughing. “What?”

“You’ve got flour on your neck.”


	8. I get by with a little help from my friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: person a goes to buy winter-themed coffee every day and barista person b has a crush on them  
> additional: mutual crushes and happy endings

“I’d like a large gingerbread latte with extra cinnamon and extra whipped cream, please.” The cute barista, Tucker, punched in his order, looking bored to tears. Wash paid for his drink and waited for the guy to turn around before he dropped a five into the tip jar and moved over to the other counter to wait for his drink. He’d faced scarier things in the military but he couldn’t even work up the courage to tell Tucker that he thought he was cute. Wash sighed as he waited. Maybe next time.

-

Tucker wrote the regular’s name, Wash, on his cup, but nothing else. He wanted so badly to write something else. Wash the regular had to be the cutest motherfucker in the galaxy. He had to be. But he had no idea how Wash would take his flirting, and if the boss found out he’d been using his job to hit on customers and they were uncomfortable he’d be fired for sure. He couldn’t do that to Junior, especially not this close to Christmas. So he sighed and just put Wash’s name on the cup and started making whatever cutesy drink the guy had ordered today.

 

\----

 

Wash walked in feeling brave, despite the ridiculous excuse of a pep talk York had given him. He could to this. He could tell Tucker that he was cute. He could ask Tucker out. He could. He _would_.

He didn’t. Wash walked up to the counter and someone else was manning the register. Tucker was standing in the back, making drinks as fast as he could.

The guy at the register was the grumpy one - his nametag was missing, but Wash remembered his name was Leonard or something. “Whatcha want?” He looked even more bored than Tucker had yesterday, if that was even possible.

“One large chocolate candy cane latte. Extra whipped cream. Please.” Wash handed over his card distractedly. He glanced up to make sure Tucker’s back was turned before he dropped his usual tip in the jar. The clerk snorted. Wash hurried away to wait on his drink, cheeks burning.

-

Tucker glanced over every few minutes as he made drinks. Wash was here again, though he fidgeted while waiting on his drink and his expression was downcast. Was something wrong? Something had to be wrong. The thought made Tucker’s stomach turn, a little. He grabbed a large cup for Wash’s order and, without really thinking of the consequences, drew a smiley face next to Wash’s name. It wasn’t hitting on him, he reasoned. Just looking out for a regular customer. Harmless. Right?

-

Wash took his drink and walked out, still feeling a little crushed. He’d been ready. Actually ready, and then the guy at the register had seen him check before tipping and now he felt self-conscious and just a little desperate. He took a sip of his drink, but not even Tucker’s skill with coffee helped cheer him up. He glanced down at his cup, and had to to a double-take.

There, next to his name in Tucker’s definitive and loopy handwriting, was a little smiley face. Wash really must have looked more upset than he thought. His cheeks burned again because Tucker had noticed he looked like a kicked puppy. But his stomach fluttered because Tucker had noticed he was sad and had tried to cheer him up.

Maybe tomorrow, then. Maybe he could tell Tucker how he felt.

 

\----

 

Wash approached the counter with purpose. Tucker stood at the register, smiling as he saw Wash walking up. Today was the day. He was going to do it. He made it to the counter, opened his mouth, and said

“I’d like a hot chocolate cappuccino with a shot of vanilla, please.”

Goddammit Wash.

Tucker took his money and moved to make his drink. Wash didn’t even bother checking to see if he was watching before dropping his tip in and heading to wait for his drink. He was just so tired. He couldn’t even do this one thing.

-

Tucker’s hand hovered over the cup, marker tip almost touching the paper. He couldn’t hit on the guy. He couldn’t. But he gathered enough courage to doodle a little heart next to Wash’s name before making the drink. He watched Wash gather up his drink and go, not even glancing at his cup. Damn. Maybe next time.

 

\----

 

When Wash went into the coffee shop, the cheeriest of the workers stood at the register. His name was Michael J. Caboose, scrawled across his nametag with pride, and even though he was a little too enthusiastic for Wash to handle often he always managed to make Wash smile.

And Wash did manage a little smile as he moved up to the counter. “Washingtub!” Caboose’s enthusiasm was still up to its legendary standards. “It is so good to see you!” His voice dropped. “But you look sad today, Wash. Sadder than normal. Is something wrong? Is it aliens?”

“It’s not- I’m not-” Wash sighed. Glanced at Tucker. “I’m not… _sad_ , Caboose.”

“Oh. I see. Yes. You cannot tell Tucker how you feel, and you are upset with yourself.”

Wash stared. That was oddly on point, even for Caboose. Especially for Caboose. “How did you-?”

“I have felt that way myself, Washingtub.” Caboose nodded sagely. “But you will get there, one day. You are strong and nice and things. It will happen.”

Wash was oddly touched by Caboose’s words. His eyes felt a little stinging, like he might cry. “I… Thanks, buddy.”

“Of course, Wash! Now, what would you like to drink?”

-

Tucker watched Wash and Caboose talk for a few minutes while he wiped down the machines. He watched Wash walk over to the chairs and sit, letting his face rest in his hands. He waited for Caboose to walk over before stage-whispering. “What the fuck, dude? What’s wrong with Wash?”

“Wash is fine,” Caboose replied. Asshole. Caboose was giving Tucker that knowing grin of his, too. “But maybe you are not.”

“Dude. What the fuck?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe today you should stop looking at Wash like he is a pretty painting at a museum and instead treat him like he is standing next to you holding out his hand.”

“What?”

But Caboose had already gone off, back to the register to help a new customer. Tucker looked over at Wash, still sitting with his eyes closed and his face in his hands. Caboose was regularly full of shit, but he adored Junior and wouldn’t try to get Tucker fired. Act like he’s holding out his hand, huh? Tucker grabbed a cup and scribbled on it before he could chicken out and started making Wash’s drink.

-

Wash grabbed his drink and moved for the door He was halfway to his car before he thought to look at the cup.

 _Dinner tonight? You name the where and when._ Next to that, a phone number.

Wash felt a real smile find its way to his face.


	9. LEGO

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: tucker telling everyone what junior wants for christmas and for christmas junior gets like 1000 of the exact same thing  
> additional: really, tucker, all you wrote was "lego dinosaur" did you really expect anything different?

“Why is this a thing that happens?” Tucker stood in the middle of the room, look at all the oddly similar boxes around him.

Wash snorted. “You did tell people Junior wanted legos. And that they like dinosaurs.”

“So everyone got them dinosaurs!?” Tucker nudged one of the nearby boxes with his foot. “There’s dino safari, dino rescue, like sixteen Jurassic Park sets, and I think I even saw some fucking dino duplo blocks mixed in.”

Wash couldn’t hold back his laughter. Tucker flipped him off. “Look, next year just send out a bigger list.” Wash stepped over a pile of lego boxes to wrap his arms around Tucker. “Or, you know, send different lists. Maybe be more specific than just lego dinosaurs.”

“I fucking hate you sometimes.”

“Love you too, Lavernius.”


	10. Tis the Season

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: junior wants to get kids in need christmas presents instead of getting his own. wash wants to get presents for veterans. tucker thinks they’re both super sweet but absolutely calls them dorks and just goes along with it  
> additional: how about the true meaning of christmas?

“You’re a good influence, you know that?” Wash looked up from where he was wrapping a pajama set to where Tucker was laying on the couch. Tucker was watching him, brown eyes bright and expression warm.

Wash raised an eyebrow. “I’m a good influence. Me.”

“Yes, you.” Tucker stuck his tongue out. “You’re doing this thing where you wanted everyone to just buy you things to take to the veteran’s clinic instead of stuff for you for Christmas.” He gestured to the pile of gifts that Wash had already gotten and was wrapping. “Junior told me today that they want everyone to get stuff for kids down at the emergency family shelter instead of their own presents this year.”

Wash grinned. He could feel it pulling at his face, once unnatural but certainly more comfortable after falling for Tucker. “You’ve got it a little wrong there, Lavernius.”

“What?”

“Junior told me last week that they wanted to do that. In fact, they’re the one that gave me the idea to do this.” He turned back to his wrapping. “They were a good kid long before I came along. You raised them right.”

He could hear Tucker getting up but he didn’t turn. He just continued wrapping. Tucker came up behind him and leaned against his back, arms looping loosely around Wash’s middle. His cheek was warm through Wash’s tee. Wash smiled again. He was warm all over, really, but he’d come to expect that wherever Tucker and Junior are involved. It’s a comfortable feeling.


	11. Whose Line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: you slipped on a patch of ice and i happened to be walking behind you and you fell into my arms wow you’re really attractive  
> additional: Tucker had to get better shoes if he was going to be spending so much time on ice.

Tucker felt his foot slipping before he could react, aside from a quiet “fuckberries” as he fell. He braced himself to land in the slush and gross wet coldness on the ground, so he was surprised when he collided with something softer and warm instead. He looked down to where strong arms held his chest. He looked up and almost swore again. The guy he had fallen into was gorgeous. Feathered bottle-blonde hair, hazel eyes, freckles as far at the eye could see, and he was strong enough to hold Tucker steady even on the slippery ground. Tucker tried to ask for the guy’s number, to make a pass at him, to anything, really, but he was too tongue-tied.

The guy was staring back at him, and had started blushing. He said “Is it too cheesy to make a falling for me pun here? Should I just skip to the part where I ask for your number?”

 

 


	12. Couldn't carry a tune in a bucket

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: you need to stop your drunken caroling outside of my window at 2 am  
> additional: Wash worries about the neighbor, sometimes. He just doesn't tell anyone.

“It’s begimmining to look a lot like crispmas-”

Wash shoved the window open as quickly as he could and leaned out just enough to see if his neighbor was really standing outside singing Christmas songs at 2 am. Yep, there was Tucker. Handsome enough, but with an annoying tendency to hang out with total assholes and get wasted. And apparently, be obnoxiously loud at obscene times. “Tucker! What the hell are you doing?”

“Caroling!” Tucker swayed in the parking lot. He only had one glove on and his hat was crooked. “It’s christmamas, dude! Where’s your spirit?”

Wash snorted. “Not in my blood system, unlike some people.”

“Wash, c’mon. Come carol with me.”

“Absolutely not.”

Tucker crossed his arms. Wash could see him shivering all the way from the second floor. “I guess I’ll just have to- to stay out here an’ sing until you get less grumpy.”

Wash sighed like the whole universe was against him. “Give me two minutes. Two quiet minutes!”

“Right!”

 

 


End file.
